THE FOREST POOL

Upon the forest pool's deep blue
Golden petalled lilies float:
Circling silver ripples play
Around an ancient rowing-boat.

I pass along the sloping bank,
I pause to listen, lost in dreams;
I see "Her" rise among the reeds,
She stretches out her arms it seems.

And hard-in-hand we leap aboard,
Charmed by the water's tiny childe;
The rudder strings slip from my grasp,
The oars into the water slide.

To float away wrapped in love
Beneath the kindly summer moon,
While midst the rushes breathes the wind
And endlessly the ripples croon.

But it is dream, she does not come,
And vainly do I moan and weep
Beside the dark blue forest pool
On which gold-petalled lilies sleep.

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